


Lost to Each Offering of Tenderness

by umadoshi (Ysabet)



Series: psychic wolves!Newsflesh AU [2]
Category: Newsflesh Trilogy - Mira Grant
Genre: Adopted Sibling Incest, Alternate Universe - Wolves, Canon Disabled Character, Consent Issues, F/F, F/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Psychic Wolves, consent issues inherent to the trope, emotional monogamy in complicated circumstances, pragmatic femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 18:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13687731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysabet/pseuds/umadoshi
Summary: "We don't rely on shared pack-sense anymore, and if I don't want to screw you, I won't. So I'll be blunt: I'd rather have my brother chain me to a wall and sit between me and the door with a rifle for two days than let you touch me. If that's what it takes, he'll do it if I ask him to."Wolf-heat waits for no one--and no presidential campaign--and there's an awful lot of tradition surrounding how wolf-bound humans act while the heat runs its course.But there arelimits, damn it.This piece fits roughly into the middle ofFeed, but its edges don't line up perfectly with the canonical novel timeline. (Shh, don't tell.) I've kept the book spoilers to a minimum.





	Lost to Each Offering of Tenderness

Large animal regulation has been a touchy subject almost since the moment the world's first zombie--whoever that may have been--shambled to its feet and went in search of lunch. Or let me reframe that and give center stage to the elephant that enters the room whenever I discuss the issue: large animal regulation has been a touchy subject since shortly after Phillip Mason, my parents' biological son, went into amplification after being bitten by the dog next door.

There are people reading this who think that my family history disqualifies me from having a public opinion on the topic. If you're one of those people, I know the odds of my convincing you otherwise are slim. But in less than a week, my brother--my _living_ brother, the only one I’ve ever had the chance to know--and I are going to hit the road to provide you with up-close-and-personal coverage of Peter Ryman's election campaign. So today I'm going to talk to you about the other side of the coin and why I’m qualified to have a unique opinion about large animals.

After all, ever since humanity started pulling itself enough together after the Rising to begin changing legislation, the most controversial element has had to do with trellwolves. If it weren't for the number of wolf-brothers and sisters in positions of authority--in the government, in the CDC, in the medical field--it's entirely possible that the centuries-old relationship between humanity and wolves would have ended with the attempted slaughter of every last trellwolf, since they no longer live in the wild and could never survive in captivity.

Fact: The trellwolf napping at my feet while I write this is a giant furry clue to my feelings on the subject. My belief in the importance of large animal regulation and the responsible enforcement of Mason's Law is a matter of public record. My belief in the exemption for trellwolves is unquestionably personal, and equally strong.

Fact: I've benefited from the flexibility of the trellwolf exemption, as well as from the exemption itself. I'm far from the only person who has bonded unexpectedly with a wolf pup due to the assumption that the pup was too young to choose a human sibling. Glimmer and I were both twelve when she chose me--twelve weeks old in her case, and twelve years old in mine. The difference between a twelve-week-old wolf and a fourteen-week-old wolf--old enough to be presented with candidates--is stark. Hundreds of students every year visit facilities staffed by humans with wolf siblings in the name of demystifying the trellwolves, and at every opportunity this includes showing off litters of pups. The odds were staggeringly against me being in that room with Glimmer when she decided to get precocious and pick early because she liked the smell of me. The flexibility of the legislation means she got to keep me, instead of us being torn apart before the bond cemented because _I_ was too young.

I don't make a habit of discussing my feelings on this blog, but it's inevitable when I talk about Glimmer. I may not be an overtly emotional person, but being bonded to a trellwolf means there's another entity tapping directly into my feelings 24/7; it's impossible _not_ to be influenced by her presence. So here's the truth of that: I _was_ too young. At twelve, my brother and I were still very much living in our parents' sphere of influence, which made it take longer than it should have for the three of us--Shaun, me, and Glimmer--to shape our relationships and habits into something that could satisfy a wolf's need for pack and family.

Let's get the uncomfortable math out of the way: I was fifteen when Glimmer had her first heat. I was seventeen when she first mated. Was that in any way ideal? No, obviously not. But it could only have been avoided if I'd let go of Glimmer when she came to me, instead of giving her my heart. The idea of that is unimaginable to me, and it was only slightly less so in that moment ten years ago.

Fact: Setting aside all of those personal details, here's something that's as unbiased as I can get. I'm a working Newsie with an Irwin for a brother, so I've spent a lot of time in hazard zones, and Glimmer has always been there. There are plenty of wild stories about the wolves, but these things are true: Glimmer can smell a fresh live infection from ten feet away, a good ten minutes before most people going into amplification begin to show symptoms; she can outrun and outmaneuver nearly any pack of zombies with fewer than fifteen members; and she can pinpoint a zombie's location by smell as fast as we can by sight, only she doesn't need a clear sight line to do it. She's literally been a lifesaver, both for me and Shaun and for a lot of other people.

Trellwolves amplify just like any other mammal, including us. No, a zombified human doesn't come equipped with all that muscle or all those teeth, so yes, an amplified wolf is a much, much more dangerous prospect. But the numbers don't lie, and the numbers say wolves save far more lives than they end.

Why is all of that relevant today--relevant enough that I'm devoting an entire post to it here on my personal blog, when there's so much else I could be discussing in these last days of preparing to head out? First, because it's been my experience that the subject of wolves incites such strong feelings in people--whether or not they're in favor of the wolves' ongoing presence in human life--that it's difficult to express an opinion on the subject without practically attaching a resume, and until now I've written very little about my own circumstances. People the world over hear the name "Mason" and think they know all they need to about any Mason's stance on animal regulation; very few people who aren't directly acquainted with my or my brother's work are aware that I have a wolf-sister.

The second reason is that the poll numbers currently suggest that either Senator Peter Ryman or Governor David Tate will be chosen as the Republican candidate in the upcoming presidential election, and it's still a commonly-held opinion that a politician with a trellwolf at his or her side is in some way more honorable than average.

Peter Ryman, for whom I'll be working for at least the next few months, does not have a trellwolf. David Tate does, which has already led to questions about why our team won't be working for _him_ , especially since I'm not the only member of the After the End Times factual news division with a wolf-sibling.

[Please refer to Newsie Rebecca Atherton's byline and her op-ed blog, _Charming Not Sincere_.]

You want to know why I'm working for Senator Ryman? Because he, unlike every other candidate ever, chose to look for bloggers as part of his media team, and had what I see as the good judgment to bring us on board. The so-called "pack sense" certainly exists, but not in any way that requires or even urges me to favor another wolf-bound human over anyone else.

What it _does_ qualify me to do--and those of you who've been reading me for any length of time hopefully know that I'd say precisely the same thing regardless of which candidate employed me--is to state unequivocally that the presence or absence of a wolf by someone's side is no indication at all of their sense of honor, their desire to work for the greater good, or what they'll fight for. If a wolf-bond is a key factor in how you choose to place your vote, you might as well flip a coin instead.

\--From _Images May Disturb You_ , the blog of Georgia Mason. December 2039.

\--------------------

Readers of all ages, I have _news_ \--personal career news, that is! I've loved almost every minute of my time in the Factual News Division, but as of today, I've done a little sidestep over to After the End Times' Action News team.

Personal anecdote time: when I told Shaun that "the only professional Irwin in the world trained by Georgia Mason" is gonna look fantastic on my resume someday, he told me I'm not allowed to say that because Georgia's been beating his writing into shape for ten years. I suppose I can live with "the only professional Irwin in the world trained by Georgia and Shaun Mason", assuming I survive my crash course in living up to Shaun's standards.

All that aside: while I loved my new boss' series on Wolfhall life and his adventures out in the field with Glimmer, let's not forget that as of now, I am the team's first wolf-bound working Irwin. While I was a Newsie, you didn't have much chance to get to know my Frostbite, but that's about to change as I get more field experience under my belt! And just wait until I meet up with the main on-the-ground team in a few weeks and we all get to find out how well Frostbite and Glimmer get along in person!

The news never sleeps, folks, and I am so excited to show it to you from a new angle.

\--From _Charming Not Sincere_ , the blog of Rebecca Atherton. February 12, 2040.

**********

Two weeks into their stay in Parrish, not knowing how much longer they'd be there, everyone in Peter Ryman's presidential campaign team was on edge, and his news team was no exception. Being in a holding pattern was challenging at the best of times; needing to generate fresh content worthy of national and even international attention was tricky under the circumstances. A sense of unstoppable momentum was required, and not the easiest thing to summon when nothing all that interesting was happening.

Having Rick Cousins in on her morning conference call with Mahir wasn't helping Georgia's nerves any; Rick was so new to her team that she was still mentally redistributing assignments, although at least now it was because she had one more person, not one less, as had happened when Shaun had poached an entirely-willing Becks from the Newsies for the Irwins.

On the plus side, Becks was _there_ \--not in the meeting, but on site for a few days so Shaun had someone on hand to delegate to in person, which was a pleasant change, and--

"Georgia?" Rick said, in a tone that indicated it wasn't the first or even second time he'd said her name. "Still with me?"

"Oh--" She blinked rapidly, glad her mirrored sunglasses kept Rick from clearly seeing the effort it took her to drag her focus back to him, where it should be. "Sorry. Say again?"

Instead of repeating himself, Rick said, sympathetically, "Being this short on sleep is rough. I get it."

Irrational annoyance lit her nervous system like a lightning strike. "I know, but that's _no_ excuse--"

Two overlapping sounds brought her up short: Glimmer's sleepy, confused snarl from where she dozed under the desk, occupying the space so thoroughly that Georgia had her feet resting on the wolf's flank, and the too-loud rasp of Georgia's own nails dragging over the desk.

She yanked her hands back as if the wood-paneling had caught fire, then set them carefully in her lap. "Sorry, guys."

Rick nodded, eyes wary; Georgia and her other Newsies were still getting to know him, but at least there was only _one_ of him. For Rick, it was an entire team to find his place in, and when he'd jumped ship to After the End Times, he'd had no inkling of the blow about to fall on the Ryman campaign. He was learning the ropes with impressive speed, but Georgia knew she was still uncomfortably opaque to him.

Mahir had no such hindrance, but the cautious note in his voice was perceptible even half a world away. "My apologies if this is out of line, Georgia," he began. She turned to face the camera, a faint _"go on"_ frown on her lips. "But is Glimmer, ah...entirely well?"

Georgia stared blankly at the camera, then directly at the monitor, at her friend's concerned expression. "She's not thrilled about being away from home, but she's fine." Mahir didn't reply, and her frown deepened. "Are you asking if she's in _heat_?"

"I find I'm reminded of conversations we've had at other times," he said carefully, "when it was soon enough that you were affected."

"That's--" _Ridiculous_ , she wanted to say. But it wasn't, was it? _Oh, **fuck** me_ nearly escaped her lips; given the situation, she was grateful to have caught herself before the familiar profanity slipped out.

"Hang on," she said aloud. _Glimmer?_ A groggy rumble reached her ears and mind at once. _Wake up._

Glimmer woke grudgingly but promptly, clambering out from under the desk and stretching while her curiosity brushed Georgia's mind. Georgia spun the desk chair to face the room. _I need to ask you something,_ she said and thought. Glimmer gave her head a vigorous shake, then reared up to set her paws on Georgia's shoulders, gazing at her face.

"Rick, kill the lights?" Glimmer's weight pushed Georgia and the chair back against the desk's edge as the room dropped into near-darkness, lit only by the glow of the monitor. Georgia pulled her sunglasses off and stared straight into Glimmer's eyes.

Scientific studies had yet to decisively answer whether direct eye contact enhanced the psychic link between a wolf/human pair, but psychosomatic or not, Georgia found it helped. There were no words in the "conversation" that flowed between them, but Glimmer's answers were easy enough to interpret.

_Are you going into heat?_

Glimmer was, very soon now. She was quite uncomfortable, now that her sister mentioned it. And now that Georgia knew, it was unmistakable--that particular edge to her own temper, the discomfort that couldn't be chalked up to inadequate sleep or erratic meals or any of the other ways taking care of herself had fallen by the wayside.

_You kept it from me? Why?_

Because Georgia was so tired, so stressed; because heat made Georgia so anxious/distressed/sad. This hunt was going on so long, and Georgia was running so hard, scenting and tracking her prey without rest, without satisfaction, without the peace of calm sleep with her mate/pack.

Glimmer's reply nearly swallowed the silent cry that followed: _But how did I not **know**?_ \--a question to which Georgia already knew the answer. The timing was so badly off, all the upheaval having done a number on Glimmer's usual cycle; the time when she would have gone into heat normally had come and gone while Georgia and Shaun were assembling their new staff in preparation for the campaign, and trellwolves had been known to simply skip a heat phase. Georgia had been worn too thin to look, not thinking that her wolf would try to hide it...

...and Glimmer, unable to plan for the future in any meaningful way, had damped down that part of their connection to the best of her ability, unable to understand that she was reducing Georgia's time to make any preparations whatsoever.

The glow from the monitor, set bright enough to let Rick see Mahir clearly, made Georgia's eyes ache, but she kept them fixed on Glimmer's. _I'm so sorry. God. I should have known anyway. I'm sorry._

Glimmer nuzzled Georgia's cheek and licked her jaw, then pointedly nosed her sunglasses. _No hurting,_ came the firm response, without words. _No._

Georgia smiled at her wolf's reproach. "Yes, ma'am." But instead of obediently putting her sunglasses on immediately, she shut her eyes and buried her face against Glimmer's neck. _I'm sorry,_ she thought again.

It took her a minute to force her head up and mentally rejoin the human world. "Thanks for the catch, Mahir," she said, sliding her sunglasses back on. "And sorry for how this'll throw you into the deep end, Rick."

Rick, sensibly, looked alarmed. "You mean I'm not already in it?"

"Oh, no." Georgia found herself laughing, in a way that reassured no one. "No, not at all. I'm afraid I'll be out of commission for a day or so. Mahir, can you ping the other Newsies? I'll let Shaun and Buffy know."

"And the senator?" Mahir asked.

She grimaced. "And the senator. Won't this be a fun chat?"

**********

"Thank you, Georgia," Peter Ryman said, once Georgia had finished rattling off an update on the site's coverage plans for the next week. "I appreciate the in-person update."

The senator was visibly weary in a way no amount of campaigning could have made him. Loss and personal tragedy had made themselves at home in his bones. He'd either learn to actively use it or cover it better; Georgia wasn't yet sure which way he'd go.

"There's one more thing, sir," she said, an uncomfortable edge of awkwardness trying to slip into her voice. She gritted her teeth against it. A soft wash of confused love brushed across her mind--Glimmer sensing the maelstrom of her mood, even if the wolf could never understand the reasons why an impending heat made her human sister feel so many things. Georgia shut her eyes for a heartbeat to answer, glad that her sunglasses kept Senator Ryman from seeing. _I'm okay. Don't worry._

"I'm sorry for the short notice, but I won't be available for a couple of days," she said. "Rick's going to cover for me on-site. I know he's new to our team, but with Shaun and Buffy here and Mahir on call for anything Rick needs, he'll be fine. And afterwards, I can steal--" _Don't say "Rebecca",_ she reminded herself "--Becks back from Shaun for a day or so to make sure everything's on track."

"That's right--Miss Atherton was one of your staff before she signed on with your brother," Senator Ryman said.

"Before Shaun poached her shamelessly, yes." Georgia offered the correction crisply, following it with a small smile.

The senator returned the smile despite his exhaustion. "And where will you be?"

Georgia had already decided to be blunt, rather than a vague claim of "personal business"; the senator and everyone else would know soon enough anyway. But there was still--and probably always would be--a spine-stiffening defensiveness to saying, "Glimmer's starting to go into heat."

 _Wolf heat._ The very idea captured people's imaginations, triggered lurid speculation. Georgia kept her head up, armoring herself with all the poise she could muster while she waited for his response. Even if it was brief, as someone with Ryman's basic decency would try to ensure it was, there would be that moment when he envisioned her in ways few people wanted to be imagined: overwhelmed with lust, desperate to sate it with anyone whose wolf earned Glimmer's favor.

_Depraved. Amoral. Animals._

Senator Ryman swallowed once--Georgia saw the bob of his Adam's apple--and then said briskly, "I see. How many wolves are among us?"

"Glimmer's the only female," Georgia replied. "Since Becks is working on-site with Shaun this week, there are two males--hers and Steve's."

"Ah. So I'll be short a security guard too," said Ryman.

Georgia weighed and discarded the notion of apologizing. "Yes, sir. Glimmer's pheromones will have gotten to Deacon by now."

"Ah," Ryman repeated. And then he went very still. "Georgia, what kind of exposure draws a male wolf in?"

She frowned, puzzled. "In terms of vicinity, or how much exposure is required? Not much, in either case. Glimmer's at a prime breeding age, so there's a lot of pheromonal spread."

"David is here for a private strategy meeting."

Georgia's frown deepened. "I didn't know about a--"

When she broke off, Ryman said--with a gentleness that said he knew her stomach had just plummeted, and he was giving her a moment to recover--"That's what 'private' means, Georgia."

"Thanks for the clarification," she said, mechanically matching his banter. "So you're saying Governor Tate's wolf brother is with him."

She barely heard Ryman's answer; she was already reaching out to Glimmer, closing the tiny bit of distance she had to put between herself and her wolf to stay sane and focused as long as possible when Glimmer was so close to heat. Glimmer was frolicking outside in the secure area, flirting delightedly with the other wolves--

 _Who's with you?_ Georgia asked.

Glimmer's happiness at the open contact slammed into her, the mental equivalent of the wolf bounding across the room and springing up to lick her cheek. So much love and joy, all swirled with the restlessness of impending heat--and that slammed into Georgia too, bringing an affectionate smile to her lips and setting her blood simmering in a way that might have been pleasant under wildly different circumstances.

And there were three distinct scent signatures, the lupine equivalent of names, all male and rowdy and ready for play to evolve into circling Glimmer with hope and hunger.

 _Thanks,_ Georgia thought, putting that distance back between them faster than she usually managed, hoping to keep Glimmer from feeling the full weight of her queasy horror.

As privately as she could, she followed that thought with _Oh, **fuck.**_

She stood and gave Ryman a quick nod. "That's all I have for you right now, sir. Shaun's in touch with the nearest full Wolfhall to get their input, and he'll coordinate with whoever Steve picks to head up security in his absence."

"Likely Juanita," Ryman said. "All right, then. I'll see you--" an awkward pause "--afterwards."

**********

It hadn't been that long since Georgia had been able to regard Governor David Tate as almost useful, in an off-putting way. The man hailed from a Wolfhall that thought of itself as steeped in a rich tradition and refusing to forsake its heritage, which meant clinging to some practices that other Wolfhalls saw as hidebound and counterproductive, especially since the Rising.

In other words, Tate veritably caricatured himself. She hadn't let that affect her diligence or meticulousness in covering him--After the End Times was carving out a presence on the national media stage that would hopefully last long past the election cycle--but she'd still found some amusement in it, when it wasn't chilling her to the bone.

His newfound presence as Senator Ryman's vice-president-to-be, electorate willing, was worlds away from "useful" or any other remotely positive adjectives Georgia could think of.

But his wolf was a _wolf_ , and--her personal and professional opinions of Hero's choice in bond-brother aside--Georgia could always find something praiseworthy in wolves. Human notions about how Wolfhalls should or should not be run, and their place in society, had changed again and again over the decades and centuries. Humans squabbled and snarled and even hated each other over it, but the wolves? The wolves did what they'd always done: accepted the strange notions humans came up with and got on with their lives.

"I'll meet you there," Shaun had said when she pinged him to say she was going to check in on Glimmer and that Tate was likely to be there. Steve's security team had long since gotten comfortable with trellwolves, starting with Steve's Deacon, but since the campaign started, Georgia had done her best to be on hand for mealtimes, to give Glimmer some semblance of routine. Given what was about to happen, her presence was absolutely required.

"You don't have to," she'd replied. "He doesn't intimidate me, and besides, Becks'll be around to feed Frostbite."

She'd rolled her eyes at Shaun's "I know. I'll be there anyway," but honestly, she _was_ glad to have him nearby. Tate was a burly ex-military man who took up plenty of room physically, and his sheer _presence_ had heft of its own, even before accounting for his flickers of pressure in the pack-sense.

In their few in-person encounters, Tate had never showed any sign of noticing _her_ there, in that soft fog of awareness that rolled in and out between wolves, and more faintly, between their chosen humans. All Georgia could pin down about him without reaching out was his towering self-righteousness, which went a fair way to explaining Hero's choice: Tate's unshakable sense of himself as a force for _rightness_ would taste much like _goodness_ to a creature who had no way of understanding the harm his human brother could cause.

**********

When Georgia reached the open space designated for the wolves to stretch their legs, she found the four of them romping in a way that she supposed would seem puppyish to anyone unable to feel the onset of Glimmer's heat. The three males orbited Glimmer, closing in and fanning out again and again, eager both to show off their desirability and make repeated contact with her.

Shaun and Becks were already there, leaning back against one of the security vehicles while they conferred. Steve and Tate were present too; all of the wolves were hungry for meat and mating, radiating a higher-than-usual sense of urgency over filling their bellies. With heat wafting over her, Glimmer would have to take the lead--the males would otherwise never tear themselves away from her.

Georgia sidestepped around the other onlookers--some wary, some curious--without paying them much attention. Shaun would have already scoped the area, and Glimmer's hunger was getting to her. _Glimmer. Let's get some food._

In her peripheral vision, she saw Tate step closer--close enough to push uncomfortably at her personal space without quite violating it. She looked quickly away from Glimmer to Shaun, and saw him and Becks both keeping a close eye on the governor's proximity to her.

 _Food,_ she thought again, imagining rich bloodied meat.

Glimmer broke away from the males and trotted in her direction. Hero, in a sudden bid for Glimmer's diverted attention, leaped right over Frostbite's head, landing with nonchalant grace.

"He's beautiful," Georgia said aloud, as Glimmer preened at the caliber of male trying to attract her.

"Yes," Tate said, too obviously in earshot to pretend he hadn't heard. The single word was almost grudging, as if he couldn't bear saying anything pleasant to her, even when it was about the creature who should mean the most to him in the world. "So. I see your little girl's going into heat."

His sidelong glance at Georgia made her skin crawl. It was far too easy to interpret: she might not be his type--too young, too mouthy, not a wholesome, down-home girl--but he was eager enough to dominate her that he enjoyed the idea of fucking her, given the reasonable justification of Glimmer's heat. Worse, he was repulsed by the sexual pull, but not by the desire to control her.

Georgia's stomach knotted. Glimmer knew Georgia's feelings about Hero's human brother, but in heat, that might not seem relevant if Hero was what she wanted most.

"Let's be clear about something: if she accepts Hero, you don't get me," she said flatly, revolted. _Please, please let it be Steve or Becks..._

The flare of rage in Tate's eyes made her glad Shaun was watching, just waiting for--itching for--her signal to come back her up. "You don't get to decide that, young lady," Tate spat.

Only a few feet away, Glimmer hackled with Georgia's anger; her growl at Hero wasn't in fun. Georgia didn't try to make her own snarl look like a smile. "Yes, actually, I do. I know how much you'd love to legislate everything, but it's only _traditional_ for human bond-siblings to sleep together, Governor. It's not law. We don't rely on shared pack-sense anymore, and if I don't want to screw you, I won't. So I'll be blunt: I'd rather have my brother chain me to a wall and sit between me and the door with a rifle for two days than let you touch me. If that's what it takes, he'll do it if I ask him to."

She turned and stalked away, neck prickling even though she knew Shaun was there. Glimmer whined, torn between her needs to protect Georgia and to gorge herself on meat in preparation for...

Georgia's knees went weak as the uncomfortable, unfocused sparking of arousal erupted into something vastly less tolerable. Experience and stubbornness kept her feet moving, if more slowly now. Glimmer danced impatiently, darting even closer.

Becks fell into step beside her. "Hey, boss," she murmured. "You hanging in there? Smells like Glimmer's gonna go any time."

Of the communication shorthands wolf-bound humans could only fully trust each other to understand, _"smells"_ was among the most obvious. Other humans who spent enough time around the wolf-bound stopped needing explanation or clarification--Shaun had come to understand approximately what Georgia meant by it within a week or two of Glimmer moving in--but words were inadequate to explain the subtle, tremendously informative secondhand sense that was scent filtered through the wolves' noses and instinctive understanding, opening up a world ordinarily beyond human perception.

"Barely," Georgia replied.

They'd reached the campaign convoy's refrigerator truck, an added expense that paid off by adding two Wolfhall-trained men to the security staff, when they weren't doubling as the truck's drivers. They knew their way around both trellwolves and zombies, making them a worthwhile asset. Both men were on duty now, with a heat closing in; the nearer one nodded to both women and Glimmer but didn't try to interrupt or force conversation. He vanished into the truck and surfaced with a pair of fresh, plucked birds, offering them to Glimmer. All of the wolves would eat soon, and then the two men would be in the lead for supervising the wolves during the heat.

While Glimmer gorged, Becks leaned close enough to Georgia to speak softly and still be heard. "Shaun confirmed details with the hotel and booked a usable suite for the human side of things. He says he'll be helping with guard duty? With us?"

Georgia nodded. "Have you ever been part of a heat away from a Wolfhall?"

"I know the security protocols." Becks' nose wrinkled. "Only one of us in the bedroom with you at a time, and we each have a minimum of one hour in complete isolation afterwards, with blood tests every time we move between rooms. Can you believe I'd _rather_ have a bitch shove her nose between my legs right afterwards?" _"Bitch"_ rolled off her tongue with the easy respect that came naturally to anyone bound to a wolf, and came so hard to almost everyone else.

"I really can. If Glimmer hadn't been trying so hard to keep me from realizing how close she was, maybe we could've even arranged for that."

They'd drifted even nearer together. Georgia could feel the warmth of Becks' body radiating through their clothes, could _almost_ feel how hard Becks was working not to simply grab at her.

"And then there could've been just the one male around," said Becks. "If I'd known, Frostbite and I wouldn't--"

"You are not the problem here," Georgia replied.

"I know. I heard what you said to the governor. How're you planning to handle this?"

"It'll be awful for all of us if I ride it out in private while Glimmer fucks it out of our systems." Georgia shuddered. "But I'm not letting that man touch me."

"No." Becks was silent for a long minute, leaving them listening to the messy sound of Glimmer eating. "But if no one takes care of you, you're going to be a total wreck for longer than if you _don't_ ride it out alone."

"As long as Glimmer has her boys, it won't be so bad. Her mating is the critical part." Another shudder rolled through her, remembering Glimmer's first two heats: during the first, Georgia had truly been alone; during the second, Shaun had been with her, doing all he could to meet her wolf-driven needs without being in the pack-sense with her. But Glimmer hadn't been able to mate either time, and that was what had made it drag on for days.

"If it affects your work, Ryman would probably cut you some slack--but _you_ won't, will you?"

Georgia slid her sunglasses down just enough to let Becks clearly see her suspicious glare. "This is sounding like you're leading up to something and Shaun coached you on exactly what to say to me."

Becks met her suspicion with wry amusement. "I sure hope you don't think your expectations for yourself are secret. They're practically visible from space."

"And as for what you're leading up to...?"

"Shaun and Steve and I had a few minutes to talk before you or Governor Tate turned up to check on the wolves, and this is the thing: with an unexpected heat like this, nowhere near a proper Wolfhall, nothing's going to get handled normally and everyone knows it. Shaun and I both guessed you'd veto Tate, and then Steve said--without any details, so now I'm dying to know--that one time his wolf got laid during a wolf-bitch's heat and _he_ didn't, and it sucked, but he got through it then and can handle it again. He says he'll just make sure to delegate some security things to his team for the day or two after, in case he's foggy. And if he opts out, that doesn't leave the governor much room to scream over being the only one excluded."

Georgia swallowed slowly, readjusting her sunglasses. "And you?"

"I'll be with you," Becks said. "Realistically, I think Glimmer's going to pick either Hero or Deacon, if she chooses just one; she's obviously got a type, and Frostbite isn't it. I'll be affected either way, but you're the one bound to her. We all know it'll be worst for you no matter what, and like I said, you'll be out of your head way longer if no one takes care of you." More softly, she added, "I've done this before, Georgia. Let me take care of you?"

That earned her the ghost of a smile. "You've got it all worked out, do you?"

"I know it's not ideal."

"As if 'ideal' is ever an option?" Georgia shook her head, faint smile turning rueful. "All right. That's what we'll do."

**********

When Georgia and Becks took Glimmer away to feed, Shaun didn't follow them. He went up to Tate instead, wearing a polished, deliberately unconvincing smile. "So that went well, huh?" he said brightly. The hate in Tate's answering glower would have made most people take a step back. Shaun didn't budge. "Give me a break," he said, eyes narrowing. "My job is literally laughing in the face of death, dude. You're not gonna intimidate me."

David Tate might have started as a military man, but he was a politician to the bone. Smooth as poisoned honey, he said, "And what do you do when not at work? Pretend your sister's not a slut? She was just talking about needing to be chained up to keep her pants on."

"If needing to fuck when her wolf does makes her a slut, you're one too." Shaun kept his own voice low. It took far more effort to keep his hand off his gun. "And if it ever comes to that and you try to touch her anyway, I'll gut you and cram your balls in your mouth, and when you amplify, I'll blow your brains out. Then the world'll be a better place and you still won't have gotten anywhere near George."

"You have some gall, son," Tate began, as Hero flowed in between them, snarling uncertainly--torn between bristling with his human brother's rage and the fact that Shaun was clearly Glimmer's.

"I sure do." The last vestiges of Shaun's fake sunny smile evaporated. "And more to the point, I know Wolfhall rules as well as you, _Governor_." He pushed his right sleeve up, baring part of the elaborate tattoo circling his wrist and climbing up his forearm. "I may not be wolf-bound, but I'm pack."

"You're pack in the eyes of a degenerate Hall that allowed a young girl to claim a wolf bitch and then come and go as she pleases for matings--something no decent woman should be exposed to at all."

"I bet George'd take being 'no decent woman' as a compliment, coming from you." Shaun scowled. "I seriously can't tell if you're implying that wolf-heat's too degrading for women to go through or that women being involved is an insult to your grand old 'dudes-only' fuckfest of a tradition. But I've been on guard for enough heats that I can _tell_ you the anatomy of the person taking the brunt of it doesn't make much difference."

Shaun's ear cuff beeped. He tapped it on. "Yeah?"

"She's on board," Becks said in his ear. "We need to get the wolves squared away. Glimmer's with me."

"We'll get the boys fed and bring them," Shaun said. "See you there."

Another tap ended the call. Shaun glanced over at Steve, who was standing just far enough from him and Tate to plausibly not be involved in the hostile conversation while keeping a close eye on them. "That was Becks," he said. "Green light." Steve nodded acknowledgment.

This time, the smile Shaun gave the governor was sincere and not remotely pleasant. "Glimmer's just about ready for the boys, so how about we get them fed and you go off and deal with your incoming case of raging blue balls."

**********

The hotel had multiple panic rooms for emergencies, and Shaun had persuaded the management to open up one of the larger ones for the wolves, effectively cutting them--and the Wolfhall-trained drivers who'd be in with them, wearing body armor and keeping a safe distance--off from the world for the duration of the heat. Georgia suspected, but hadn't taken the time to confirm, that Shaun had bribed the management with promises of featuring the location prominently in his footage, rather than appealing to their sense of goodwill.

 _"I'll help Shaun and the guys get the wolves squared away, and then I just need to grab a few things and I'll meet you in the suite Shaun booked,"_ Becks had said.

It hadn't taken long for Georgia to detour to her and Shaun's room and collect the things _she_ needed. Most of her belongings were scattered between both her own luggage and Shaun's, but the few things she'd packed specifically in case of Glimmer going into heat were still exactly where she'd packed them when getting ready to hit the road with Ryman's campaign.

After that she'd only had to confer with the manager on duty and then, at the manager's insistence, let a staff member escort her to the designated suite. All in all, it was more in-person contact with the hotel staff than she'd had in the entire previous forty-eight hours, and the low-ranking staffer babbled so much when nervous that by the time they reached the room, Georgia felt like she could probably have written a short biographical piece on his life.

"Thanks for your help," she said as soon as the door opened.

"Oh," he replied, looking even more nervous, "I'm supposed to wait until the--the, ah, other party--arrives--"

"Great. Please wait in the hallway and let her in when she gets here." Georgia shut the door firmly behind her.

**********

By the time Becks joined her, Georgia had managed to remove her boots and most of her tech and had done a sweep of the bedroom for third-party recording devices, as much to keep herself busy as anything. It did nothing to alleviate the desperate arousal, but it gave her something else to at least _try_ to think about.

She took Becks' arrival as permission to finally let herself sit on the room's queen-sized bed. She picked up one of the larger pillows--there was an impressive selection--and hugged it to her chest, picking at one of the corners to keep her hands busy. "Shaun got the staff to lay in supplies for us," she said, as Becks slung a duffel bag down on the foot of the bed.

Squinting a little in the dimness of the room, Becks inspected the array of items laid out on the nightstand and packed into its drawer. "Bottled water, Coke, protein bars, chocolate, lube, and a field first-aid kit," she noted aloud. "All the necessities of life."

"He does his best."

"How are you and Glimmer doing?"

Georgia closed her eyes and opened herself a bit more to Glimmer's chaotic emotions. The rush of _need_ that rolled from the pit of her stomach to her extremities turned her bones to jelly. "She's still flirting, but she's got an eye on Deacon," she said, letting herself sink down to lie on her back. Everything felt just that tiny bit easier if she wasn't trying to hold herself upright. "And I'm still verbal, for however much longer that lasts."

"Got it." Becks sat down on the bed, scooting over to sit cross-legged beside her. Georgia opened her eyes at the sound of the duffel bag being unzipped, just in time to see Becks lift out a pair of still-packaged silicone dildos. "Pick one," Becks said, setting them down for Georgia's inspection.

Georgia hadn't been expecting a selection to choose from. "You're _very_ well prepared. Is this something you're generally into?"

Becks grinned. "Pegging people on my own time? Not really. But I've got a wolf-brother, and if I'm with someone who's in heat, fingers aren't exactly up to the job." She gestured grandly at the two toys. "So you've got your choice."

That seemed reasonable enough, insofar as Georgia felt safe trusting her own judgment on the subject with wolf-heat actively destroying her concentration. What would or wouldn't satisfy the heat had little to do with body parts and everything to do with being mounted by someone as caught up in it--the heat, the pack-sense, the _need_ \--as she was. "And you've done this before, so you know it works," she said, not quite under her breath.

"It should," Becks said, with reassuring confidence. "I've done this six or seven times, and the trick seems to be that if the only difference is you're being taken care of by someone wearing silicone instead of meat, and they're using it right, your brain will accept it. The boys' brains always have, anyway, so yours should too."

"So you've got it down to a science," Georgia said.

Of course she did. Becks was a chameleon in flawless lipstick and perfectly windblown hair. She showed people what they wanted to see, and dug what she wanted out of them in turn, and Georgia knew from chatting while they both worked that Becks had bent over backwards to learn every trick for coaxing people that her society-girl upbringing hadn't already provided.

So naturally, it had turned out that what Becks _really_ wanted to do was shoot zombies in the face. Georgia would have called it a waste if Becks weren't so damn good at it.

Becks laughed. "I also always get the wolf-bound boys to pay me back for the shiny new dildo I just christened in their ass, so I can replace it. Not that they ever seem to mind taking it off my hands." Eyes glinting mischievously through demurely-lowered lashes, she added, "I apparently have a gift for hitting their sweet spots better than most guys with factory-default dicks manage." Her lips quirked. "If only Mommy could see me now, right?"

"If you ever filmed it, Buffy could get it into your mom's inbox if you really wanted," Georgia observed, deadpan.

Becks winced and shook her head. "I'll pass. Giving her a heart attack would be too much like living down to her expectations."

" _My_ parents would just find a way to make use of any footage they got hold of." Georgia shivered. Down in the panic room, the male wolves were circling Glimmer, approaching with hopeful snuffles and devouring eyes. Glimmer was enjoying the hell out of it. Georgia wasn't, not yet; there'd be a period of time when she would, when it would be all lust and no worries about who was satisfying it, when she was simultaneously too detached from her body to feel what was being done to it. She wished that part would hurry up.

"Yeah," Becks replied. They shared a moment of contemplative silence. "Anyway, about the 'down to a science'--remember you're as much a rarity as I am, boss. I've never done this to a woman, on my own time or otherwise."

The hot tension in Georgia's muscles was seeping into Becks' body too; Georgia was sure of it, in the exact way she was sure that if she sat up and kissed Becks' lips, Becks would go along with it--no, would relish it, would kiss her back until their mouths were both stained blood-red with Becks' lipstick. Pack-sense was bubbling up from inside their bones, stronger than it had ever been between them before. Becks would yield to her, let her assert dominance until Glimmer's need made Georgia yield to her in turn.

There had been a question. Georgia tore her gaze away from Becks' throat and studied the pair of sex toys. "That one," she said, nodding at her choice.

"Okay." Becks drew her knife and destroyed the packaging with a deft cut. She stroked the dildo idly as she freed it, a careless, intimate touch, as if the inert silicone could feel her hand; she handled it the way she handled guns, like an extension of her body. It was the same way Shaun handled his weapons, a fact Georgia found both comforting and--at least under the circumstances--unexpectedly hot. "How do you want me to do it?"

"Are you asking 'how' or 'where'?" Georgia inquired, arching an eyebrow in a way that Shaun found maddeningly pedantic.

Becks smirked. "Right, I remember your rules. 'Always be precise unless you're deliberately obfuscating, and only obfuscate if you have a damn good reason.' I was asking where exactly you want me to put this." The smile stayed, but the laughter in her eyes vanished. "Somehow I can't see you letting the men who do this make that call."

Georgia grimaced back. "God, no." She shut her eyes behind her sunglasses, weighing the options. "I've never done this with a woman before either," she said, but kept the rest of the considerations to herself.

Anal sex didn't do much for her, which--given Shaun's enjoyment of having that part of _his_ anatomy explored--she supposed was due to the lack of prostate, but it was what she'd always opted for during Glimmer's previous heats. The men she'd been with were mostly used to fucking other men when their wolves mated. And irrational though it was, given that an accidental pregnancy from a wolf-bound man would be far easier to explain and deal with than one from her brother, she still preferred to keep those men as far as possible from her reproductive organs.

But that wasn't a concern with Becks. The only other _reason_ Georgia had for wanting to treat this heat like any other was that Shaun was the only person who'd penetrated her any other way. She cringed inwardly at the realization that she was romanticizing that, as if she and Shaun didn't have countless other things they shared only with each other. Only Shaun had ever kissed her mouth, given or received oral sex, had her fingers inside _his_ body. Only Shaun had ever had sex with her that wasn't impersonal and empty, just bodies rutting and rubbing with secondhand lust.

She turned all those private things over in her mind, savoring her connection to him, and opted for practicality. "Vaginally sounds good."

"Okay," Becks said again. "Want any extra stimulation?"

"No." _Yes,_ her body urged, already craving an impossible number of things. Glimmer's desire was diffusing inside her, but it hadn't overwhelmed her yet. Georgia could--and did--still want everything that she _ever_ wanted, ever imagined in her deepest fantasies, the ones she only whispered to Shaun when all the filters were stripped away. As Glimmer's heat took over, those complex desires would be obliterated by the wolf's need for simple penetration, and that was the only one Georgia was willing to succumb to.

"We should finish getting ready," she said, realizing she'd been gazing mindlessly at Becks for a solid minute and imagining _extra stimulation_.

Becks, who'd been staring back, nodded unsteadily.

Getting ready was simple for Georgia: she took off her shirt and the bra she had on beneath the tank top-- _Can't you wear a proper camisole, darling?_ , her mother grumbled in her memory--but left the top on. Then she stripped entirely from the waist down, shivering at the air hitting her between the legs, where she was wet, _so_ wet and ready, quivering from head to toe. All that was left to put on was the thin pair of gloves with their padded fingertips, specially designed to keep her blunt nails away from her own flesh or anyone else's.

Once those were in place, there wasn't much else she could do to reduce the risk of viral contamination. She bounced on the bed a little, watching as Becks finished preparing.

Becks braided her hair quickly and efficiently, leaving no stray wisps, as she asked, "Does rough sex make you bleed?"

Georgia shook her head. "Not usually, but you may as well take all the precautions you can."

"I'm dressing more carefully for this than I do for field work," Becks mock-griped, but did as Georgia said. She too left a tank top on, at least nominally covering her breasts; her nipples were hard under the sleek fabric. More significantly, she put on a pair of skintight shorts that did marvelous things to the curve of her ass--Georgia was long past the point of pretending not to stare longingly at Becks' body--and over that, she fastened the harness for the dildo, and the toy itself.

Both women paused a moment to look at it, and when Georgia fidgeted and sighed, Becks didn't tease. She just pulled the covers back, lay down on the bed, and waited.

Georgia lay down beside her with no hesitation. Glimmer was being coy with the males, letting them get close before she dashed away, yipping with amusement. But it wouldn't be long before she made a choice, not if the way Georgia ached to be touched was any indication. She slipped closer to Becks, basking in the heat radiating from her--God, she smelled good--and licked her lips unthinkingly.

"Mind if I touch it?" she asked.

Becks grinned. "Seems only polite to get acquainted."

It was so close to what Shaun would have said-- _had_ said, on more than one occasion--that Georgia snickered, reaching out to wrap her fingers loosely around the silicone that was going to be inside her so soon.

"It feels nice." She stroked its length, making Becks' hips buck up off the mattress.

"Fuck, I'm horny," Becks murmured. Georgia had the sudden wild urge to do what Shaun would have done, to lean down and apply her tongue to the toy, slow and sloppy--to see if Becks would respond to the sight the same way _she_ did.

Becks distracted her by asking, "Am I a terrible person for hoping Hero mounts Glimmer?" Her voice was huskier than usual, pupils dilated with arousal, if not as wide as Georgia was used to seeing in the mirror.

"Frostbite might think so." Georgia took her hand away, wiped her palm on her thigh. "What're your reasons?"

"There's a couple." Becks ticked them off on her fingers. "The obvious one is that I can take better care of you if I'm more in control of myself than I will be if Frostbite gets lucky. And the not-so-nice one is that if Hero gets mating privileges, that asshole of a governor is gonna be even more miserable than if Hero _doesn't_ get a turn." She frowned suddenly. "Unless he takes it out on somebody."

"He won't," Georgia said. "He's not the type who thinks he's free to do what he condemns in other people. He'll do what he has to, and he has some actual ground to stand on when it comes to fucking his brains out with someone whose wolf's mating with his. I wouldn't want to be on his staff for the next week or so, but he's not going to go attack somebody. _That_ would be sinful. He'd have to find someone else with a wolf whose cycle happened to be close to Glimmer's."

"Too bad for him your beautiful bitch is the only one around," Becks replied.

Georgia's mind was getting fuzzier, which increased the irritability factor of being constantly aroused in a way she couldn't satisfy. She hated the foggy thinking more than almost anything else, other than letting strangers touch her--and _wanting_ them to touch her--and other than how stiff and sore she inevitably felt afterwards, and other than how awful she felt when she felt bad about any of it, because it was just part of having Glimmer, and she could no more imagine life without Glimmer than without Shaun...

No, maybe the fog in her head was far from the worst part, much as it chafed at her nerves. It just sucked. A lot. She didn't like being unable to think straight; she also didn't like not being able to remember clearly what she'd done or had done to her, no matter how much that little voice inside reminded her it was a mercy that she couldn't. The aftermath was hard enough to deal with.

"At least if Tate screwed someone else, he wouldn't want to hurt them," she mumbled.

Becks stiffened, a snarl escaping her lips. "You think he would have hurt you?"

"I don't know." It was getting harder and harder to think. Georgia scrabbled after the thought, trying to pin it down _(pin it down, make it bleed, oh God, she wanted to tear into something)_. Her padded fingertips gouged into the mattress, where she was face down now, having rolled over without consciously deciding to move. "He wanted to. He could have. It'd be easy...easy to get a light into my eyes, say he forgot, say he wasn't thinking straight enough to know."

"He could've blinded you," Becks breathed, her protective outrage so intense that Georgia felt it in her own bones, sending fresh shivers along her nerves. The pack-sense was opening them to each other in unfamiliar ways, taking their existing emotional connection and making it sing.

 _He wouldn't ever have been alone with me,_ Georgia wanted to say. _Not like we're alone right now._ What came out instead was, "He wouldn't. He's smart enough to know Shaun would use him for target practice, if Glimmer didn't gut Hero first."

"No, I guess stupidity isn't one of his problems," Becks acknowledged, her voice steadying even as Georgia's came apart.

Somewhere else, where both of their minds and hearts also were, Glimmer had chosen Governor Tate's brother. Becks ached with Frostbite's frustration, the need that wouldn't be satisfied, but he wasn't mating. Glimmer was, or she was about to be, and some fundamental part of _Georgia Mason_ was disintegrating into that wild, exultant need.

Georgia pushed herself up onto her hands and knees in a wordless plea. Becks leaned in and kissed the top of her spine, then said, "I forgot to ask--do you want me to do your neck?"

That made no sense that Georgia could work out. "Do what...?"

"Let me ask a different way," Becks murmured. Her mouth returned to Georgia's nape, hot, kissing again, but with teeth in it--and then _only_ teeth, biting down hard without sinking in.

Georgia froze, but not from the fear a frantic, sane corner of her brain was trying to make her feel. The sound that spilled out of her mouth was a desperate whimper, a scream too tangled in her vocal cords to escape.

"So that's a yes." Becks let go of her entirely, left her nearly convulsing with Glimmer's impossible arousal. "Shhh, shhh, this'll only take a minute. I promise." Her hands returned, slipping soft cloth around Georgia's throat. "Trust me. If you can focus on what I'm telling you, listen. I'm just tying this padding on the back of your neck. It can't choke you."

The words _I understand_ were beyond Georgia's capacity to shape. She tried to nod, to retain that much control of her own body when Glimmer was being taken by Hero, was reveling in the ecstasy of it. Becks' skin was warm against hers again, strong hands exploring in a way that made Georgia want to shriek in frustration.

Then she was being taken too, deeply and fully and hard, so hard her muscles shook with relief. Becks was saying something else, a warning or a comfort, but the syllables were meaningless.

Something like teeth clamped down savagely on the back of her neck, thick padding preventing it from breaking her skin. Pleasure seared a path down her spine, so good and sweet that her vision went red and her handsclaws _hands_ tore at the bed, her body flexing against Becks' grip and around the heavy thickness moving inside her.

She dropped deep into the flood of pack-sense, giving her body over to Becks and her instincts over to Glimmer, her consciousness too splintered to hold anything but the rush of _pack_ and _rightness_.

**********

Georgia was sore all over when Glimmer's need released her. She lay still, eyes closed, trying not to think about anything but the softness of the mattress under her. She could sleep for days in a bed like the one she was in, tucked under the heavy weight of the blankets; even without Glimmer's heat and all its attendant pressures, she'd been bone-weary for weeks, pushing every limit she had.

But there was so much work to do, and she needed to at least assess herself, figure out what steps she needed to take to get back to her job. Georgia did it as mechanically as possible, ticking off everything that caught her attention. She hurt inside, but not too badly; the back of her neck hurt more, throbbing as if she'd been bitten. Her hands felt as if they'd cramped, and her thighs and arms had all the strength of noodles. She felt feverish and half-starved on top of the various pains, but all in all, everything seemed in order.

She opened her eyes and found Becks lying beside her, curled up on her side in a position mirroring Georgia's own. Becks' eyes were half-lidded and glazed, her cheeks flushed--she was still coming down. Which meant she had something to come down _from_. That lined up with the foggy impressions in Georgia's head: Glimmer had ultimately chosen all three of the males, and from the deep sense of contentment wafting from her mind into Georgia's, she was pretty damn pleased about it.

"Hey," Georgia said. She was pleased to get the single word out clearly, and relieved to feel more words ready to follow it. Every time Glimmer went through a heat, Georgia was able to find words a bit sooner; it felt like slowly learning where to look for them inside herself. Heat when she'd been a teenager had left her almost nonverbal sometimes, every word an effort to scrounge up from the battered inside of her skull.

Becks met her eyes as well as she could through Georgia's sunglasses. "Hey," she echoed. "How're you feeling?"

"Not great," Georgia admitted. "But it could be a lot worse. You?"

"Shaky all over. Frostbite got lucky after all." Becks rolled over onto her back, stretching. "I would've paced myself better if I'd known." Her smile was rueful. "Sorry about that."

Georgia's memory of Glimmer and Frostbite's mating was blurry, but enough of it came back as Becks spoke that she didn't need clarification: Becks would have been gentler at first if she'd known she was going to lose control too. Instead, she'd started out forcefully, burning off the worst of the secondhand craving Georgia was enduring before Glimmer had invited Frostbite to take a turn, and after that, with Becks experiencing Frostbite's long-delayed gratification...what would have felt deliciously rough at the beginning had been brutal by the end. The rawness in Georgia's throat told its own story about crying out over and over, and she doubted it had been any more pleasant to hear than it was to feel.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "Are you still shaky from getting off, or because your boy had you jackhammering me?"

Becks' laugh was rich and warm. "Both. Wow." Her head lolled to the side as she studied Georgia. "I'd say I get the best deal, being a woman with a wolf-brother."

"Oh?"

"Well, as far as I could tell, you didn't get off at all. The boys I've fucked during heat all do, but they've still got refractory periods, so it's generally still only once." She shrugged. "But since male wolves take forever to ejaculate, I get a ten-minute orgasm out of the deal. And the leg cramps to show for it." She kicked under the blanket, working her leg muscles. "Between that and the fact that the whole endeavor uses some different muscles than sex I go for on my own, the shakiness lasts a while."

"Huh." With some effort, Georgia persuaded one of her arms to move enough that she could push her bangs off her face. "You're right that I didn't get off, but you have officially blown my mind." She gave Becks' explanation more consideration, and added, "You should mention that little detail to Buffy. I'm sure she'll find a use for it, if she doesn't already know."

Hopeful curiosity washed against her mind as Glimmer noticed her return to functional consciousness. Georgia smiled faintly at her wolf's eagerness. "Yes, I'm awake," she murmured, saying it aloud to help focus her thoughts.

She let herself slip further into Glimmer's perception, looking for information but unable to suppress a gasp of relief as it took her away from the aches in her own body. _Who's with you?_ she asked. Glimmer returned a swirl of scents and impressions, relaying that all three males were still with her, that the humans who offered them food were there too, and starting the process of screening for any trace of blood or live virus that the wolves could return to their human siblings.

_And Shaun?_

Glimmer didn't know.

"I need to check in with Shaun," Georgia said. "Shit, where did I put my phone?"

Becks pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing. "On the night table. I'll get it for you."

"I can--"

"George." Becks gave her a stern look. "Spare me. Every time you move half an inch you look like you're trying not to cry. _Metaphorically_ ," she added, before Georgia could protest. "And probably only to people who actually know you. But I do know you, and I'm going to pass you your phone. I need to get the kinks out of my legs anyway."

"That's just embarrassing," Georgia muttered.

"I doubt anyone else has ever noticed." Becks studied her, hesitated, and then reached out to stroke her hair. "People have full-on breakdowns over this. Cut yourself some slack."

"Shaun says I don't know how."

"Shaun's not wrong." Becks pushed the blanket off herself with a groan that was quickly followed by a chuckle. Georgia joined her in looking at the dildo as Becks unfastened the harness. "Toys are like everything else about sex, huh? They look fucking ridiculous once you're all finished."

Despite her amusement, Becks took it off with great care. "I stuck my head under the covers and checked us both over with my phone's black light," she said. "I didn't notice any blood, but..."

Georgia nodded acknowledgment of the implicit "better safe than sorry", and waited while Becks went and scrubbed her hands. Becks was right; she still felt too battered for moving enough to reach her phone to sound like a pleasant prospect.

Becks came back and passed Georgia her phone, then set a bottle of water and a Coke right beside her on the bed, opening a water of her own. After drinking it, she asked, "Are you okay if I go take a shower?"

Georgia nodded. She drank her water--just as quickly as Becks had, once the first mouthful told her just how parched she was--and once Becks had gone back into the bathroom and shut the door, she messaged Shaun. _Call me._

Her phone buzzed almost at once. "You all right?" Shaun asked as soon as she picked up.

"Yeah." Just hearing his voice sent a very different kind of need shivering through her. It had been years since the last time she'd gone through a heat without him being at least nearby. Other residents at the Bay Area Wolfhall clearly thought it was odd for her to want her brother in the room, but if anyone suspected it was more than a codependent quirk--and Georgia would have been astonished if no one suspected--they'd never said anything. "I'm going to wash up as soon as I can get my feet under me, and then I'll head to our room," she said.

Still desperately thirsty, she popped the tab open on the Coke and started in on that. Shaun made an approving noise in her ear. "I hear you're hydrating."

"I'll hang up before I start devouring everything in sight, don't worry." Hunger was kicking in, and experience said she'd have a brief spike in energy when the fading high of heat met an influx of calories--enough time to get to their room, as long as she had her own professionally-efficient shower first.

"Just don't eat Becks. She's mine now, remember."

"As if. If I start eating staff, no one'll ever want to work us again."

"I dunno, I'm pretty sure your Newsies are all masochists. Some of your critiques probably hurt more than getting an arm chewed off."

"Asshole," Georgia said, trusting him to hear the affection in it as clearly as she heard the concern under his artificial cheeriness.

"I'll be back ASAP," Shaun replied. "Just need to finish talking to Dave about his assignment." There was the barest hesitation, and then he added, "They didn't need me with the wolves, and Steve has a couple of people outside the suite guarding you and Becks."

Left unsaid, but clear enough to Georgia: _And Steve's people wouldn't have understood if I'd insisted on being in earshot while Becks fucked you._

"Got it." On the other side of the suite, the sound of the shower stopped. "My turn to shower. I'll see you when you've got a free minute."

"I hope not. I hope you'll be asleep by then."

"I'll try," she said, and terminated the call.

**********

Neither Georgia nor Becks were expecting to find Buffy outside the suite with Glimmer, Frostbite, and two security guards whose names Georgia was too foggy to recall. Her brief shower and several snacks' worth of food had her on her feet and steady enough to be patient while she and Becks were given fresh blood tests and their wolves sniffed them thoroughly, but that was the limit of her mental bandwidth.

"Shaun called," Buffy said, falling into step on Georgia's left, with Becks on the right. "He asked me to make sure you got to your room okay." She gave Becks a half-apologetic shrug.

"The more the merrier," Becks said. She re-braided her hair, still damp from the shower, as they headed for the elevator to the floor where the After the End Times team's rooms were located.

Just before the elevator doors opened, Glimmer and Frostbite's body language changed as Hero's scent-name burst into Georgia and Becks' minds, giving them just a flicker of advance notice that Hero and Governor Tate were waiting on the other side. There wasn't time to warn Buffy, who stopped dead for a moment at the sight of him seated stiffly in a chair opposite the elevator.

The little seating area was a holdover from before the Rising, refitted as a security measure. The floral wallpaper and the paintings and plush, matronly chairs were meant as a homey distraction from the fact that the nook was big enough to hold at least two people, and that there were security doors that could seal it off.

Tate stood, giving them a chilly smile. Georgia indulged in a moment of wishing they could trigger the locks and trap him inside.

"Hello, Governor," she said.

His smile didn't falter. He just looked her up and down in a way that made her itch for another shower.

"Excuse us," Becks said, putting herself between his gaze and Georgia, then catching Buffy's eye to signal _just keep walking_.

Tate's gaze landed on the deep bruise on the back of Georgia's neck as they passed him, Glimmer and Frostbite exchanging quick greeting sniffs with Hero. "I see you enjoyed yourself," he muttered.

None of the women replied, but as they reached the door of Georgia and Shaun's room, Becks touched Georgia's elbow--the first physical contact they'd had since leaving the suite. "Buffy, is that dirtbag still watching?"

Buffy tapped her watch, using its face to bring up the view from one of the cameras she was wearing. "Staring like the pig he is."

"Right." Becks stepped closer to Georgia, a wicked light in her eyes. "He's all tormented by what he missed out on, but he doesn't strike me as someone with a good imagination." She stroked the backs of her fingers across Georgia's cheek. "And I like the thought of him suffering."

"He could stand to suffer a lot," Georgia replied.

Maybe it was her own sheer exhaustion and anger, or maybe it was the residual haze from Glimmer's heat, but she was caught off guard when Becks kissed her.

It was a storybook kiss, the sort embossed in the pages of adult fairy tales. Becks' mouth was soft and warm, and her body was softer and warmer still when she pressed Georgia back against the door. The kiss was sweet and deep and lingering, affirming hours of joy and passion that had never happened.

Georgia's response was awkward, but she didn't try to pull away. The memory of Becks' hands on her was too fresh to ignore, and Georgia was too keenly aware that, despite the ache and distress and mindlessness of wolf heat, Becks had been touching her with affection, trying to make it as good for her as possible.

She kissed back, and when Becks' fingers trailed across the back of her neck, it was the _want_ her body remembered, not the pain of _getting_.

When Georgia broke the kiss, Becks let her go at once. Before either of them could speak, Buffy cleared her throat loudly. "And here I'm the only one of us who even _likes_ girls," she said. "I'll be in my bunk."

Becks shot her a puzzled look, and Georgia shook her head. "It's a thing she says. A lot. And then she writes a ton of porn."

"A ton of porn that helps keep us in quality camera equipment," Buffy replied. "Georgia, you go in first, all right? Rebecca, come crash in my room for a while. There're two doubles, and it'll be hours before Rick's back. Remember we're right across the hall, Georgia. Yell if you need us."

"Did you get a good picture of his expression?" Becks asked, almost under her breath.

Buffy looked at her watch screen again. "Did I ever."

**********

The hotel room was unsurprisingly empty when Georgia and Glimmer went in, but simply being in a room with only UV lighting let a bit of tension melt out of her muscles. The bedclothes were still rumpled from how restlessly Georgia had slept the night before--for the brief period that she'd slept at all, in the handful of hours she and Shaun were allotting themselves per night.

She remembered being annoyed at herself at three A.M.,when she'd managed an hour of sleep before waking up so uncomfortably aroused that, for the first time since Ryman's campaign had revved up, she'd toyed with the idea of waking Shaun and asking him for a helping hand. _And somehow I still didn't clue in._

Glimmer leaned comfortingly against her leg, picking up the tang of self-recrimination. The wolf's tongue lolled as she sent a wave of the feeling Georgia always experienced as both _Don't be silly_ and _You're too hard on yourself_.

"I love you too," Georgia said-and-thought back, and Glimmer leaped up onto the bed, where she sniffled pointedly at a small heap of fabric on a pillow, a waft of Shaun's scent flowing from her sense of smell to Georgia's. The scent marking was only a few hours old, Glimmer shared as Georgia smoothed a hand over the fabric, confirming that it was one of Shaun's well-worn--and recently worn--shirts. While Glimmer and Georgia had been dealing with the heat and mating, Shaun had done what he tried to always do when he was going to be away for a while: put on a thin t-shirt under whatever else he was wearing, kept it on until he was about to leave, and left it for them.

Georgia kicked off her boots and stripped down to her underpants, then gathered the t-shirt against her face to breathe deeply before pulling the shirt over her head. A quick look at her inboxes told her that none of the 72 waiting messages absolutely required her immediate personal attention. She forwarded a few each of the most critical to Mahir and Rick before dashing off a quick note to Shaun: _In our room. Bed._

In her utter exhaustion, with his scent enveloping her, she could almost convince herself--the small, yearning part of her that couldn't care less about their work or ambitions, the part that cried out for the comfort of Shaun's presence--that she was collapsing into his arms, not the cold bed he should have been in too. But Glimmer was there, a familiar weight against her side, a source of warmth even from on top of the blankets Georgia bundled herself under.

**********

To her own surprise, she did sleep before Shaun made it to their room--not deeply or well, but enough that the sound of the door opening half-woke her. "You awake?" Shaun asked quietly, shutting and locking the door.

"No," Georgia said, burying her face further into Glimmer's ruff. She was close enough to conscious to feel how badly her muscles were stiffening. Getting up again was going to be a joy.

"Good." The mattress creaked as Shaun sat beside her, gun hard against the small of her back. He touched her head, smoothing her curls, and then stopped abruptly to tug the back of the t-shirt's neck further down. _"Damn,"_ he said, as if unsure whether to be impressed or horrified by the bruising there. "What the hell did Becks do to you?"

Georgia rolled over onto her other side, facing him. _It's all okay. Keep sleeping,_ she told Glimmer when the wolf grumbled in her sleep. "That was a clamp of some kind. I didn't get a look at it. She asked first."

Shaun rested his hand on the side of her neck, fingertips on the bruise that her hair was too short to hide from anyone. "And you wanted it?"

She closed her eyes, remembering Becks' teeth on her nape and how every nerve, every synapse, had erupted with near-orgasmic approval. "Yes. Are you staying?"

"Yeah." He kissed her forehead, walking his fingers down her spine to measure her tension. "If I don't, you'll be trying to get up and get to work in half an hour or something, and we both know that's even stupider than some of _my_ life choices." He stood up and began disarming, then undressing. Georgia kept her eyes shut and listened to the familiar rustlings: there, that was his shirt, and that was his belt... "So we're both going to sleep until tomorrow morning and then honest-to-God eat breakfast, and then we'll get back in the game. Non-negotiable, 'cause Glimmer'll back me and we both know Mahir and Dave can handle our departments for that long."

"Did Becks check in with you?"

"Yep. She swears up and down she'll be good to go in the morning too." Shaun leaned over her to nudge Glimmer with a fist. "Glimmer. You're hogging the middle. Give George that spot." Georgia echoed him mentally, and Glimmer made another low grumbling noise before getting to her feet, moving to the further third of the bed, and flopping back down with a sigh.

Georgia slid over into the wolf-scented, wolf-warmed center of the bed, making room for Shaun to climb in on the other side of her. It was a squeeze--there was a reason Glimmer rarely shared the bed in hotel rooms--but for the first night or two after a mating, Georgia always felt almost frantically touch-starved. Shaun would gladly have spent every night of their lives sleeping with her tucked tightly against him; having the chance to do it after Glimmer's heat ended made him happy in a way that broke Georgia's heart a little every time she nestled so close.

As soon as the humans were settled, Glimmer pressed against Georgia's back with a satisfied _whuff_ , pleased to be in a small heap with both of her packmates.

Unlike her human sister, Glimmer had no lingering aches from the day. With the bond between them so heightened from the hours of mating, it took no real thought for Georgia to mentally tap into Glimmer's lack of pain, and the wolf welcomed the contact.

With Glimmer's love cradling her mind and Shaun's arms warming and comforting her, Georgia finally let herself sink into deep sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> \--Title from Melissa Stein's "Olives, Bread, Honey and Salt"
> 
> \--Beta work by wildpear


End file.
